Primum non nocere
by QueenPotatos
Summary: "Each student has their own motivation to attempt Med' school; it's not something you can go through without a Calling. It still amazes me, how these two survived this hell along with each other while they have such divergent opinions when it comes to practicing Medicine. I guess it's something not even Science can explain. These two share a bond not even I could to destroy."


_Hi everybody !_

_So I'm back with another magical AU of mine hahaha don't hit me please I can't control my brain. Anyway this is going to be a multi chapter story as soon as I'll have time to write it. Which means...not yet. But considering this will be kinda autobiographic cause it's exactly what I've been through I guess it would be easier to write._  
_White coats are sexy as hell._  
_Thank Obi-obito for the beta._

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The ER was packed that night. It had been raining cats and dogs for days so that the roads were slippery. Unfortunately, some unlucky or carefree drivers had already died during the weekend due to the terrible weather. This time, no one was really to blame. The first car had tried to avoid the pedestrian who were crossing the street at the last minute, and they had hit the second car on its side. One mother had already died, and two little children were between life and death.

Doctors usually don't believe in God, or in Fate; they only trust sciences and logic, but not tonight. The senior on duty couldn't help but think that life had a cruel sense of humor. The two young boys who had been critically hurt in the accident were in adjacent boxes, and so were their families waiting in the corridor.

They weren't even real rooms. The walls were thin and made in some kind of cheap plastic material. There was a tiny window overlooking on the medical room, so that Madara could see nurses and tall people with white coats on the other side. Izuna was unconscious; he had suffered several and serious injuries. His arm and leg were already roughly plastered, and there was blood dripping from his mouth and nose. His parents were holding each other's hand firmly, trying to catch a glimpse of information, asking for clues each time a nurse or a student entered the room to run physical and blood tests. They were so much on edge that they failed to notice that the noises from the machine linked to Izuna's heart started to speed up. Madara could see his broken brother's heart rate written in a flashing green light, increasing from 120 to 180 and then, the line went flat.

He was kicked out of the room before he could even ask what was happening. In less than a minute, five people dressed in white had come in the box, and then came out on the corridor side, pushing his brother's stretcher quickly to another place. His parents were following them. Madara started to run after his mother but she stopped him from doing so.

"Stay here," she said. All the strength in her voice was gone, her face was white and her hands wre shaking. It was as if he was staring at his mother's ghost.

"…Ah."

The sliding door was still open. From where he stood he could see the empty space left by his brother's bed, the turned-off machine and all of their stuff – coats, his mother's bag, some of Izuna's toys even, everything they had managed to save from the crash - all packed in a plastic bag. Madara felt very alone all of a sudden, only surrounded by the dull hubbub of the other boxes noise, the never ending and irritating, '_bip_' sound of the other patients' machine. Behind the tiny rectangular window Madara saw the face of a young doctor, sighing heavily and crying; a man came close to her and patted her shoulder. He probably said something to her before he caught the young boy's glance on them. He shut the blinds immediately after.

Madara wondered why she looked so sad. He closed the box's door slowly. 

When he turned around to have a seat he spotted another boy around the same age as himself, looking extremely down. He remembered him; he was in the other car, the one that had hit them and hurt Izuna. The boy looked miserable – and Madara wasn't referring to what remained of his clothes or about his stupid haircut. His legs weren't touching the ground; he was swinging them back and forth endlessly behind the seat. Madara sat next to him – it was the only space left after all.

On their right there were many people waiting as well. Some were sleeping, some were reading prescriptions and holding envelops in their hands. In the ER there were all kinds of people: young, old, very old, families and single men, drunkards and politicians; even children like them, left alone in a cold and white corridor. Everybody at some point would spend a night in the ER. Madara liked that kind of place, because it had no discrimination. Death always treated people equally – with the same cruelty.

A nurse came to check on them later; acting away too nice for Madara's taste. She gave them hot chocolate and some biscuits. The other boy didn't take one bite. Madara drank and ate, then almost spat on the floor.

"Erk. Salt-free biscuit. It's disgusting." He paused and eyed his neighbor for a moment. "You shouldn't try it. Friendly advice."

The weirdo boy didn't even look at him. What was wrong with him? He wasn't the one who got hit by a car, was he?

"And it's not even real chocolate. They put water instead of milk – and it's sugar free too…I guess this is not a place suited for kids."

"It was the nearest hospital," the boy finally said, still looking at his swinging feet. "The nearest pediatric unit was too far away."

"Oh, I see. How do you know that?" He asked genuinely.

"Because…my father, kind of, works in there? He is a psychiatric for kids."

The boy sniffed before taking a slip of chocolate, and then he coughed.

"Told ya it tasted shitty" Madara smiled, but his kind gesture found no response.

They fell silent because the woman doctor opened one of the sliding doors beside them. An elderly woman stood up immediately and walked toward the woman. They talked for a bit and then both entered the box. The two kids both looked back at their drinks and untouched biscuits.

"They took my brother to the resuscitation unit* when you were still in there," the boy said with a monotonous tone, referring to Izuna's box. "He isn't back yet. I don't think he will be. They left me here but I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"What can you possibly do anyway?"

"I don't know…I don't know…I should have known…"

His voice cracked and he started to cry. The salt-free biscuit nurse rushed back quickly – the ER unit was in basement level of the hospital, so that the noise echoed a lot. It wasn't unusual to hear what was going on in the other side of the unit unfortunately – but there was nothing she could possibly do. She had no idea of what was happening either. In fact, nobody knew, and they were left alone in that creepy corridor with the machines' noise and old crazy women screaming for their dead husband.

Eventually the boy ended up with his wet face on Madara's shoulder – not that he cared, his clothes were already damaged at this point.

"I should have known," the weirdo sobbed, "my mom stopped breathing before the ambulance got there. I should have helped her but I was too scared to move…I…I could have saved her but I didn't even try…"

Madara rolled his eyes away from the boy's sight and sighed. What was he supposed to do now? The boy had lost his mother in the crash. He never would think that she deserved it, even if she had been the cause of the accident; but seriously there was nothing a what-seemed-to-be seven year old kid could do about that. No one could have saved her.

"It's my entire fault…"

"No it's not," he said, perfectly knowing it wouldn't be enough to make the boy stop whining.

"It is."

"No it's not."

"I couldn't save her."

"Are you a doctor? Or God? Did you rush the car into ours? Do you have time travelling powers to get back before this happened? Can you change the reality and make your mother hit the pedestrian instead?"

His tone was maybe a little bit harsher than what he had expected it to be. Madara hated that, when people took the blame on themselves when it was only bad luck, something they had no control of. What was done was done, and there was no turning back. What was the point of reliving the scene again and again; trying to find what went wrong when you couldn't possible change it? _'What if's_ had never saved anyone.

"You cannot change what had happened. You can only make sure it won't happen again. Or that if it does, you'll be ready to act."

The boy looked up, and Madara could almost see the stars shining in his eyes.

"My name is Hashirama," he announced, all of a sudden, as if it were so deadly important – what a bad pun to make in a place like this.

"I'm Madara," he answered before his mind could stop him. "Nice to meet you, I guess?"

The boy smiled for the first time that night.

Hashirama curled his arm around Madara's and just like that the two boys waited, quietly. They fell asleep on each other.

They were only woken up hours later by Hashirama's father. They didn't know what time it was; being under the ground for so long with no traces of the sky, but it might be very late – or very early. The nurses weren't the same anymore.

"We're going home, Hashirama."

The low voice awakened them two, but for some reason Hashirama refused to let go of Madara's hand.

"Where is Itama?" He asked, with a very sleepy voice.

Madara didn't fail to notice the hesitation in his new friend's father's voice.

"He…he is tired. He has to stay here so the doctor can look after him. We need to leave and to rest."

"Can I go and see him before we leave?"

"No you can't."

They left immediately after that. Hashirama's father lifted him up and the boy rested his chin on the large shoulder. He waved at Hashirama and on his lips he could read a barely whispered _'Thank you'._

His mother came back around the exact same time. She wore the same expression on her face as Hashirama's father.

"Sweetie, we're going home," she said with a broken smile. She never called him that way. She knew he hated it.

"Is he dead?"

Her eyes widened. She didn't add anything. They went home silently that day, with the rest of their stuff packed in a plastic bag at the back of their car where Izuna shouldn't have been sitting – the seat next to him.

* * *

Several years later, as he was unpacking his truck in his new studio Madara thought about that special night a lot. He was going to hang around those kinds of places again, with a little bit of luck; but this time, he would be on the other side. He would be the one closing the blinds.

He also thought about the weirdo guy. In fact he hadn't quite stopped thinking about Hashirama from time to time. There had always been this thing he couldn't quite understand about him; he never understood why he thanked him that day. Not until years and years later, when he finally met him again, in the most unexpected way.


End file.
